


Burns

by StaishBlackRose



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Burns, Comforting, F/M, Gore, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaishBlackRose/pseuds/StaishBlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riza asked Roy for just one thing. But is he strong enough to do it? Can he hurt her like this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burns

**Author's Note:**

> I am pretty new here so tell me if something is wrong with the way i tagged things or if I forgot any warnings.  
> Enjoy :3

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Roy struggled to keep his voice and face stern. “It still sounds as complete madness to me, if I am being honest.”  
“Yes.” Riza was completely aloof. “How should I stand to make it easier, sir?”  
“Oh please!” He pulled a face at the formal address. “Stand… sit… lie…. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”  
She looked around the room with her sharp eyes but in the end gracefully descended on the edge of a sofa. Hawkeye blinked a few times as if she remembered something and then began to unbutton her jacket. Mustang, who was attentively watching her face all this time in search for at least a hint of hesitation, finally realized that he was practically staring at Hawkeye and quickly turned away with his cheeks reddening.  
“Are you going to do this from across the room?” Riza asked in her usual set in steel voice. God damn it, how can she stay so collected?  
“That would take more skill than that in my possession.” Roy smirked, trying to light up the atmosphere.  
Hawkeye predictably didn’t answer. She was clutching her shirt, covering her naked front, looking down, onto the carpet of her rented flat. It had a few burns on it. Seemed like someone had dropped a cigarette there. Mustang shuddered.  
“I… I still oppose to do this.” He clenched his fists, not being able to move any other muscle in his body.   
“Roy, please.” Riza turned to him. “It’s the only thing I will ever ask of you.”  
“I would rather do anything else but this for you.” He made one step towards her. One uncertain step.  
This whole scene inevitably sent him into the deja vu of the day when she dared to share her father's secret with him. To be honest, he thought she was going to show him something completely different when she locked them in her room alone. But when Riza slowly revealed her back to him, all the side thoughts vanished. Instead the rush of new ones flowed in. What kind of madman does that to his one and only daughter?! However Roy would be an idiot not to think of how smart the idea was. Dangerous and hardly controllable flame alchemy, always and forever guarded by sensible and disciplined Riza and only she could decide who was capable of learning it. Roy was honoured by her trust but also filled with doubt. Was he really ready? Was he strong enough to control the most fatal element and not get burned? Counting all the tempting opportunities his future beheld? But something nudged him, made him take one more step, look closer at the blood-like ink. It was confidence, certainty that if she trusted him, he should do the same.  
“Do you still trust me?” Mustang muttered, closing his eyes, feeling exhausted just from standing here. “After all that I’ve done? After all that flame alchemy allowed me to do?”  
“Would I let you go forward if I didn’t?” Riza’s eyes pierced through Roy. “After everything there is no other human I trust but you. Yes, I saw you on the battlefield and yes, it has the tendency to take over you but you are fighting it, Roy. You are capable of fighting the flame back. I don’t know if anyone else is brave enough to do this. And I don’t need to find out.” Mustang opened his eyes and she immediately buried her stare back into the carpet. “I also saw how it consumes you from the inside. And I can’t be your subordinate and serve with all the loyalty I have to offer, knowing that the monster, who feeds off you, lives on my back.”  
Mustang swallowed all the words of disapproval that he had on the tip of his tongue and made one more step, finally touching the sofa with his knee.  
“Do you have matches?” He asked slowly, words falling out of his mouth like heavy bullet sleeves.  
“I thought you will use your gloves.” Riza raised her eyebrows.   
“I don’t want to go with big clumsy daubs. I want to make it right.”  
Hawkeye nodded and motioned to the bureau. Roy leaned to it and opened first drawer. A little box of matches laid right on the top but he couldn’t resist quickly observing the insides of the drawer, winning some more time. There were her hair clips, few earrings and rings she never wore and a pile of photos. Even though Mustang was already looking through her personal possessions, he decided not to stare at the photos for too long. But one involuntarily drew his attention. Maybe because it was the only framed one or maybe because of the familiar bright blue colour of the uniform. It was the last picture their battalion took before the war. He had the same one shoved into his wallet. Riza’s was a little damaged by the liquid in the upper left corner. Maybe that’s why she decided to frame it in a simple wooden frame. Was it sitting on her bureau before he came in? Was she that embarrassed of showing any kind of emotion to him? Or anybody for that matter. Was she that disgusted of her own weaknesses? Was he one of them?  
Roy withdrew the matches and flopped onto the sofa. Hawkeye shifted a bit closer to him. It took all of Mustang’s willpower to take out the first match. For Lord’s sake, how is he going to deal with it when even preparing is that hard?  
“I will try to make it as quick as possible.” Roy said quietly, Riza nodded.  
Mustang struck the match and concentrated on the flame, knowing exactly what it was, every element and reaction that led to this orange light dancing on the end of a wooden stick. And with that he led it further, into the object in front of him. Water, carbon, more oxygen. Fire slowly burned its way through.  
“Wait, Roy, stop!”  
Mustang snapped out and immediately decompounded the fire before looking at the result. He touched just a tiny little bit, closer to her armpit. The skin looked like a dug earth with thick scarlet rill running out of it.   
“Riza?”   
“Just… Don’t do it in one go? Please?” Her voice finally acquired an emotion. And Roy would much rather listen to her familiar colourless tone than this.  
“I did not plan on doing it in one go. I touched just a tiny bit.” He admitted in a hoarse voice.  
Riza made a small noise and clutched the fabric tighter. Roy regretted not bringing the lighter. With matches he needed both hands but he would rather give one to her. Maybe if she hurt him back it would be easier.  
“I will treat the wound, okay?” Mustang’s voice had never been softer.   
“No, do it when everything is over.” Riza turned and caught his hand. Roy quickly flicked his stare between her face and their hands.   
“I don’t want it to get bad.” He stated bluntly.  
“Finish quickly then.” Her sharp eyes never left his face.  
Roy exhaled loudly. She was always like that and you would think he would get used to it. But every time her over-controlling personality made itself obvious he couldn’t help but felt his ego hissing from the corner. He never could resist her well-planned orders. And that was Roy Mustang, future Führer, on his knees under his subordinate’s thumb, even worse, willing to be in such position.  
This thought made him… not angry but slightly annoyed. He impulsively lighted another match, this time snapping his fingers at the dancing fire. The flame incremented and shot forward in one pulsating sphere, crashing into the object in front of it. Carving inside and spreading underneath.  
Riza screamed. Roy dropped the burnt match and almost fell forward but his arms saved him. His breath hitched and fists were clenched so hard it almost hurt his knuckles.   
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Riza.” He whispered in a broken voice. “I never wanted to hurt you… I can’t do it, Riza.”  
“Is there… Is there much left?” Her voice broke as well.   
Roy slowly raised his head. The last shot was good. It destroyed a large bit of the tattoo on her left shoulder. It seemed like the wound was still vibrating slightly.  
“It’s enough. I erased the important part. No one will be able to read it now.”  
“One more.”  
“WHAT?”  
“One more shot. Just to be sure.”  
“Riza, I said, I can’t!” He snapped, shouting at her. Shouting how much he cared and loved her. Shouting how much pain her sufferings caused him. Shouting how weak he was at the sight of her hurting.   
“One more shot, sir.” Her voice obtained familiar steel notes, bringing Roy back to his senses.  
It didn’t need to be to be big and painful. Mustang chose the area on her other shoulder and touched the surface with his flames only barely. You could still see the remains of ink but it looked like a smudged scrawling. When scar tissue will cover this bit it won’t be visible.  
“That’s it.” Roy said sternly before standing up. “I’ll bring the bandages.”  
He quickly walked out to her kitchen where he bent over the sink, feeling sick and dizzy. The smell of burnt flesh made him wander back to war, to hundreds of taken lives, to horrible anticipation in the evening, when he counted all of his people praying he didn’t smell one of them that day. And now her flat was filled with this disgusting odour.   
God damn it, it’s not the time to pity himself and reminisce on the past. Roy needed to treat Riza’s wounds. And do it fast. How could he leave her bleeding for that long?  
He quickly filled a bowl with cold water and washed his face as well. Then he found the first aid kit and a towel and returned to the living room. Riza was still sitting on the sofa but something changed. Mustang knitted his eyebrows, turning his military flair on. He looked around the room but it was obvious than nothing changed about it so he turned his stare to Riza. Her posture! That’s what changed! Her always-straight shoulders, raised head, chin up, everything disappeared. Instead of his set in steel comrade he saw just a young woman, hurt and scared. He didn’t want to interfere and embarrass her, so he quietly made few steps back and walked in stumping louder than usual. Predictably her shoulders rose up and she winced from moving the burnt part of her back.  
“How are you?” Roy sat behind her, damping the towel and carefully wiping the blood with it. Riza just nodded and he pursed his lips.  
He continued, trying to be as gentle and efficient as possible without causing her any more pain. Mustang was so concentrated on the process that he didn’t notice her body moving straight away. But eventually her back started to shake so hard that he removed the towel for a moment.  
“Can I do something for you?” Riza shook her head. “Pull the blanket up, it’s cold.”  
She leaned to grab the corner of the fabric, draped on the armrest of the sofa, but a fast move was not something she needed right now and she stopped short, wincing again. Roy quickly stood up and helped her, looking away to not make her feel uncomfortable. In all honesty it would not be the first time he saw Riza naked in front of him but whole situation did not incline his impolite stare.   
“Roy…” In the end he had to look up at her face.  
He felt as if his heart was burned out at this exact moment and this instant he knew that it would take forever to collect the ashes. Tears streaming down her pale cheeks, wetting her bitten lips, falling on fast rising and falling chest.  
“Thank you…”  
Roy quickly took her into his arms, putting his hand onto the back of her neck as Riza buried her face into his shoulder. She tightly clutched his shirt and pressed into him. Roy carefully held his arms around her, avoiding the sensitive bits. His fingers gently ran through her hair, which were slightly damp closer to her scalp. They stayed like this till Riza’s cries had died down and she was just silently wetting Roy’s shirt, trying to calm her shaking shoulders.   
“We need to bandage them.” Mustang whispered into Riza’s hair.  
Her hands limply fell onto the blanket. Roy slowly let go off her and returned to her back. Trying not to stare at the wounds for too long he gently started to put bandages on her. He had to wipe off some more blood and now his hands smelled like metal. As Roy was overlapping one over another, bandages turned a light shade of pink in some places. Finally Mustang fixed them and made a deep breath before looking at his work. In instinctive impulse he pressed his lips to the covered wound on her shoulder before gingerly putting kisses all over her back.  
“There is no need to feel guilty, Roy.” Hawkeye’s voice sounded as usual, just 2 tones softer and almost patronizing. “I am grateful for all that you’ve done. I am sorry I put you through this. In return I promise to always be by your side. I hope this price is enough, m, Roy?”  
He was sitting still behind her, pressing his forehead to her spine. Riza looked down and found his hands on the blanket. She carefully covered his trembling fingers with hers and squeezed them.  
“I will never hurt you again.” Mustang finally gathered the power to say that, his voice low and hoarse. “I grant you a life-long permission to shoot me straight away if I ever do.”  
“Roy…”  
“I am being completely serious. I expended the amount of pain I can cause you today. You understood my order, lieutenant?”  
Riza smiled with only the corners of her lips.  
“Aye, sir.”


End file.
